


Perks of Being Evil

by cuubism



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Background Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Crack, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Humor, Occasional meme references, Snarky Magnus Bane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25815766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuubism/pseuds/cuubism
Summary: “Magnus,” Asmodeus said, stepping closer, “you must understand the potential. You and me, together. With our combined powers, we could do anything. We could reshape the world in our image.”Magnus bit his lip. “That does sound tempting,” he admitted. “The only problem, dear father, which you constantly fail to understand, is that I simply do not Vibe with being evil.”Asmodeus blinked at him tiredly.“It’s a killer aesthetic, with the fire and brimstone and all,” Magnus continued, “but I’m afraid destroying the world wouldn’t gel very well with my self-care routine, and I really can’t let that fall by the wayside."Asmodeus wants to show Magnus his vision of the world when they'll rule it together. Magnus figures, what the hell, he has a free afternoon.Or, Asmodeus learns just how much of a hassle it is to be a father to Magnus Bane.
Relationships: Asmodeus & Magnus Bane
Comments: 51
Kudos: 103





	Perks of Being Evil

**Author's Note:**

> be forewarned: this is extremely ridiculous

“My _son!”_

The door flew open with a _bang_ , and Asmodeus’s crooning voice echoed into the loft.

Magnus looked up from where he was sitting on the couch with a book and sighed. “It’s that time of year again, is it?”

He stood up with a flourish, rolling up his sleeves and brandishing his magic—

“Wait!” Asmodeus had made his way further into the living room, and thrust out his hand in a _stop_ gesture. “Don't you dare banish me again.”

“I have dinner plans,” Magnus drawled, “I don’t have time to rebuild the Empire State Building after you blow it up.”

“Just hear me out,” Asmodeus entreated. “I’ve changed.”

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “I normally like to see the best in people,” he admitted, “but you haven’t ‘changed’ in four hundred years, father. Unless you count changing your suit color from blood red to charcoal grey. Good call, by the way. I always thought it was tacky, that red.”

“You may not believe me,” Asmodeus snarled, “but you will come with me, or I’ll burn your beloved Institute with all of your Shadowhunters inside it.”

“And you say you’ve changed,” Magnus sighed. “Very well, I suppose I have time for a field trip. Lead the way!”

Asmodeus’s portal dumped them out in the middle of a cornfield. Magnus delicately pushed one of the leaves away from his face before it could poke him in the eye.

“Channeling horror-movie jump scare energy, I see,” he observed. “Very nice. You can be a scarecrow-turned-axe-murderer.”

Asmodeus just blinked at him. “No, you fool. _Look._ ”

He pried open the leaves of an ear of corn to reveal blackened, rotting kernels. “Blight. I’ve poisoned millions of acres. It will be a famine unlike any the human world has ever seen. They won’t know what hit them!”

Magnus turned back from where he was scribbling a fire message to the High Warlock of Indiana to smile indulgently at him. “They certainly won’t. Very clever, father! Exceedingly evil.”

Asmodeus’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t taking this seriously.”

“What? Of course I am! Raze the world into fire and ash and so on and so on. Don’t worry, I understand perfectly.”

“But do you _grasp_ the poetic beauty of the vision?” He took Magnus’s hand, closing his eyes. “Visualize it with me.”

A fly buzzed around Magnus’s ears. He swatted it away. “I'm visualizing.”

“Flames,” Asmodeus intoned, “smoke. The screams of the damned echoing into the air. Distorted skeletons crushed into a path beneath our feet.”

“Wow,” Magnus said, “that’s quite an image. Have you considered directing a film?”

“I will make my visions manifest in this realm!”

“Could you manifest a gin and tonic instead? This dry heat is parching my throat.”

Asmodeus glared at him. “I’ll show you. You _will_ understand.”

“As you wish,” Magnus agreed, and Asmodeus pulled him through another portal.

They stepped out onto a cold, flat expanse, and Magnus shivered.

“Couldn’t we have just gone for pizza? Mini-golf, perhaps?”

“Quiet,” Asmodeus growled, “look.”

Across the frosty tundra was the snaking form of an oil pipeline, still and dark in the bright day. Magnus’s lips twisted in distaste.

“Isn’t it beautiful,” Asmodeus breathed.

“Slimy,” Magnus said. “As I said, mini-golf is always an opt—” 

“Quiet! Stop being so trite! This is world-shaking.”

Magnus made a zipper motion across his lips and threw away the key. He gestured for Asmodeus to continue.

“Watch,” Asmodeus said, “and I will break it open. You will see the beauty of a field turned black with oil, a landscape marred for thousands of years.”

“Cinematic,” Magnus agreed, “but, if I may propose an alternative—”

Asmodeus seemed almost hopeful that Magnus was participating. “You have an idea?”

“Vanish it,” Magnus said. “Just—” he snapped his fingers— “Poof! Gone. No more pipeline. Think of the economic devastation! Billions of dollars evaporated into the air. Now _that’s_ destruction.”

Asmodeus narrowed his eyes. “Just moments ago you were decrying my destruction.”

“I’m coming around to the idea,” Magnus said. “If we destroy the world, I won’t have to deal with people barging into my apartment and asking for things anymore. Plus it would mean the end of acid-wash jeans. Seems like a fair trade, to be honest.”

“I knew you’d see it my way,” Asmodeus said. He clapped Magnus on the back. “Just for you, my boy, I will vanish this pipeline.”

“Thanks Dad,” said Magnus. He rubbed his hands together in a gesture that he hoped suggested evil machinations. “Now, destruction!”

The vanished pipeline behind them, Asmodeus brought Magnus to Paris, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as they walked past bustling cafes.

“It makes me so happy that we’re on the same page again,” said Asmodeus, “and to show it, I have a gift for you. And a lesson.”

“Oh, goody,” said Magnus. “I hope it’s cake. I’m starving.”

They walked through the open doors of a pastry shop and strode up to the counter. Asmodeus leaned on the glass pastry case, staring down the man standing at the register, who Magnus assumed was the owner.

“I’ll take one slice of _gâteau_ for my beloved son—” Asmodeus growled at the man who visibly paled as the demon seized him by the collar and dragged him forward _“_ — _and your soul!”_

“Hang on,” Magnus interjected, tapping his father on the shoulder, “what exactly is going on here? How am I supposed to learn if you don’t explain the context?”

Asmodeus blinked, and then he was releasing the shop owner, who hurriedly shoved a slice of chocolate cake into Magnus’s hands. Magnus picked at it idly as Asmodeus paced across the shop like a caged animal.

“This man—” he pointed a sharp finger at the cowering shop owner “—made me a deal. A successful restaurant in exchange for his soul. As you can see, this shop is the most successful one on the street. And now—” he bared his teeth, and they glinted in the overhead lights “—it’s time to collect.”

“Ah, I see,” Magnus said, nodding in sympathy, “the day-to-day business of running Hell never ceases. Why don’t you let _me_ handle this transaction, and you can take a break? It will be a good learning experience, will it not?”

Asmodeus seemed pleased. He smiled fondly. “I appreciate the initiative. Go right ahead.”

Magnus stepped before the man, who looked absolutely terrified. Magnus tapped his lips thoughtfully with his cake fork. “Father…” he began, “if I am the one collecting, I can change the payment, can I not? As long as both parties agree?”

“You can,” Asmodeus confirmed. “What do you desire from him?”

“I want…” Magnus paused as if in thought, then exclaimed triumphantly, “I want a gift certificate for a lifetime supply of free cake! Though I suppose in my case that’s an awful lot of cake…” he turned to the shop owner. “Do you agree?”

The man nodded rapidly, hurriedly scribbling the details on a piece of scrap paper and thrusting it at Magnus.

“MAGNUS!” yelled Asmodeus. All the glass in the store shattered, and the poor shop owner was flung back against the wall. He slid to the floor, unconscious.

 _“Father,”_ Magnus admonished, looking at the man’s prone body. “That was not, as the kids say, very _cash-money_ of you.”

“Don’t play with me, Magnus. I know what you’re up to. You won’t foil my plans.”

Magnus blinked at him innocently, taking another bite of his cake. Fortunately, there weren’t any glass shards in it. “Who’s foiling what? I’d simply rather have more cake than his soul. However, if you feel that strongly about it, _you_ can have the gift certificate—”

Asmodeus’s hand closed around his throat and he shoved Magnus up against the wall. _“You,”_ he snarled, “are my son. Act like it.”

“Okay, okay,” Magnus raised his hands in surrender. “Let’s not get worked up. I thought you were trying to change?”

Asmodeus took a deep breath and let it out slowly like it was taking all of his willpower not to crush Magnus’s windpipe. Finally, he released him.

“If you are serious about being my son again,” he said, “I will give you another chance. You’ve yet to receive your gift, after all.”

“There’s _another_ gift? Really, the cake was enough, you didn’t have to—”

Asmodeus glared at him, so Magnus quieted and followed him through another portal.

It was nighttime as they stepped onto the streets of Amsterdam. They had barely been walking for five minutes when Magnus whined, “Are we there yet?”

“No.”

“How about now?”

Asmodeus whirled on him. “Why are you acting like a child?”

“Why are _you_ acting like a child?” Magnus muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Asmodeus made an animal growl deep in his throat. “Come _on_.”

Magnus skipped to catch up. “I’m _coming_ , _God_.”

They eventually reached the door of what looked like an underground club. Magnus looked up at the flashing red sign. “Is this a sex club? _Oh_ , I get it— _lust,_ your primary sin. Of course.”

Asmodeus didn’t respond, just led Magnus past the bouncer—who didn’t even seem to see them—and into the bowels of the club.

“Parents don’t _usually_ take their children to orgies,” Magnus remarked idly as they made their way through the writhing bodies of naked dancers, “but to each their own, I suppose.”

“We are not here to party. We are _here_ ,” Asmodeus said through gritted teeth, “to tempt. And to lead men astray.”

“‘We’re here to tempt and lead men astray,’” Magnus repeated. “That’s what I say to my husband when I show up to his Cabinet meetings not wearing any underwear.”

Asmodeus closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath through his nose. “Are you going to take this seriously, or not?”

“Of course,” Magnus agreed, “my apologies. Leading men astray. Tempting. Right. So am I supposed to, like, strip? Because I don’t think my husband would appreciate that, given that he’s not here. And neither would I, frankly. Plus, I’m not wearing very interesting underwear—it’s a work day, you know—and—”

Asmodeus pressed his fingertips into his eyes for so long that Magnus thought he might have broken him.

“They’re not supposed to be tempted by _you_ , Magnus,” he finally said. It sounded like a plea for sanity. “Merely whisper in their ears that they should cheat on their spouses, that’s all.”

“They’re _not_ tempted by me?” Magnus gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “Well, that’s just offensive. Alexander always says I could tempt the gods themselves. So, what, do these men that we’re leading astray not have any taste? Am I too _divine_ for their mundane palates? Is—”

“Magnus, _please_ ,” Asmodeus begged, “just go tempt someone. Participate if you want. I don’t care.”

“Very well,” Magnus sighed, “I’m off to tempt. Toodles!”

He made his way through the crowd until he found the bar and ordered a stiff drink. It wasn’t long until someone was sidling up to him, resting a light hand on his arm.

“Hey there, cutie.”

Magnus looked down at the woman leaning against the bar. “Are you married?”

She blinked. “Um— yes?” She was shocked enough by the suddenness of the question to answer honestly, despite not wearing her wedding ring.

“Perfect,” Magnus said.

The woman shifted in closer, batting her eyelashes. “That a turn on for you?”

“Only if you’re married to _me_ ,” Magnus told her.

She seemed confused. “What—”

“Listen,” Magnus said, “do you _really_ want to cheat on your partner?”

The woman gaped at him. “Why else would I be here alone?”

Magnus had to acknowledge that this was a fair point. A flaw in Asmodeus’s plan, too, it could be said. “I know it can be tempting,” he said, and he did—Magnus had been in more than one bad relationship in his life that had effectively been over before it officially ended— “You’re bored, unhappy, your needs aren’t being met. But think about it. This is a person that you once cared about enough to _marry_ , even if you don’t anymore. Do you really want to hurt them in this way?”

The woman hesitated, and Magnus beckoned for the bartender to bring her a drink. She sipped at it as if fortifying herself, and then, apparently sensing a sympathetic ear, began, “I don’t _want_ to hurt him. I just can’t seem to make anything change. It’s like…”

An hour later, she was insisting on paying Magnus’s tab as she stood up to leave the bar. “Thanks for all the advice, Magnus. I’m going to go home and talk to my husband.”

Magnus patted her on the arm. “Best of luck, dear.”

Once she was gone, he turned back to his drink, nursing the last of it. Suddenly he missed his Alexander terribly. It must be about the end of Alec’s workday by now. He’d be making his way back home.

Perhaps it was time for this outing to end.

Magnus weaved through the crowd back to where Asmodeus was leaning against the wall, surveying his domain. “Well?” he asked as he saw Magnus approach. “How many people did you tempt?”

Magnus took a deep breath before the announcement, and exhaled dramatically. “One.”

Asmodeus tipped his head back against the wall. “Lucifer’s testicles, you’re hopeless.”

“Hey,” Magnus protested, “I’m trying my best.”

“No, you’re not,” Asmodeus moaned. “You’re making a mockery of me! You really don’t care about the glory of Edom at all, do you?”

Magnus hesitated. “Well…”

“Magnus,” Asmodeus said, stepping closer, “you _must_ understand the potential. You and me, together. With our combined powers, we could do anything. We could reshape the world in our image.”

Magnus bit his lip. “That does sound tempting,” he admitted. “The only problem, dear father, which you constantly fail to understand, is that I simply do not Vibe with being evil.”

Asmodeus blinked at him tiredly.

“It’s a killer aesthetic, with the fire and brimstone and all,” Magnus continued, “but I’m afraid destroying the world wouldn’t gel very well with my self-care routine, and I really can’t let that fall by the wayside. Hit me up when you want to end world hunger, though. We can collab.”

“You always reject my attempts to reach out,” Asmodeus said sadly. “I show you my work. I let you in on my business. I bring you to a sex club to teach you how to sow the seeds of sin in the hearts of man. I thought at least you would enjoy that. But you don’t want any of it.”

“I did suggest mini-golf,” Magnus reminded him.

Asmodeus kept frowning.

“Hey,” Magnus said, patting him on the arm, “at least you tried. That’s more than some fathers can say.” He summoned a gold star sticker and stuck it to Asmodeus’s lapel.

Asmodeus looked down at the sticker, which read, “ _there was an attempt.”_

“Alas, it seems we are destined to be separated,” he sighed. “I thought you were my son, but you’re a different person entirely.” 

“I meant what I said about the world hunger thing, though,” Magnus said, “or, like, I am always free if you wanted to go for ice cream—”

“No, Magnus, it’s no use.” Asmodeus pushed himself off the wall. “You’re useless at being evil. Absolutely hopeless.”

“This is what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“I will try again a few decades from now,” Asmodeus declared. “Perhaps with age and more worldly trauma, you’ll come around.”

“That’s— uh. I mean, you don’t _have_ to—” 

“Goodbye for now, my son.” Asmodeus opened a portal.

“You sure you don’t want to hang around?” Magnus asked. “We can go rescue kittens from storm drains.”

“Why do you insist on tormenting me?” his father cried. “Cease your blasphemy. It burns my ears. Until next time—”

And he was gone. The heat of Edom vanished with his portal.

Magnus straightened his jacket, smiling a little to himself, and opened a portal back to the loft.

He had just gotten settled on the couch again when the front door opened and Alec stepped in. He smiled at Magnus from across the room as he hung up his jacket.

“Hey, you.”

Magnus waggled his fingers at him in greeting.

Alec walked across the room to lean down and place a kiss on Magnus’s waiting lips.

“Your hair’s all mussed up. Did you have an eventful day?”

“Oh, you know…” Magnus played with his ear cuff, smiling, “the usual.”

**Author's Note:**

> now I need a Shadowhunters spinoff that's just like a shitty family sitcom focusing on Malec and their kids and their friends and family where Asmodeus is like the unhinged grandfather that you don’t really want around your children but have no choice but to invite to family gatherings. 
> 
> "Dad, is Grandpa coming to Christmas this year?"  
> Asmodeus: *bursting through the door and setting the loft ablaze* Yes I am and I brought you a hellhound 
> 
> [tumblr](https://cuubism.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
